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Lee Trambath was a fifty-five-year-old restaurant manager, with three ex-wives and five children. He was a slender, dark-haired man with a trimmed beard that was mostly gray, and he lived and worked in a small Massachusetts town, near the sea. The children were from his first two marriages, three daughters and two sons, grown now…
While his head wouldn't clear a chair seat, the parents' voices traveled on a higher plane, circled like wind, though his mom often stooped down from her rainy mist of perfume to lipstick a kiss upon his cheek, and his dad hoisted him light as a ghost to play airplane among the lamps hanging like…
Father, this night As on so many other nights I envy you. Not as an infatuated child Is jealous of his father— When I was a child I desired your strength; What I saw as your intelligence; A thousand small skills That I have never made my own— I try to imagine The disintegration of…
Gone to seed, ailanthus, the poverty tree. Take a phrase, then fracture it, the pods' gaudy nectarine shades ripening to parrots taking flight, all crest and tail feathers. A musical idea. Macaws scarlet and violet, tangerine as a…
I am breathing Rachmaninoff in the unheated room where they slept— my parents, the piano, the winter bushel of apples. Over the distance Sister Cecilia is still whispering keep your knuckles out, Rachmaninoff pleads fortissimo, and Papa says keep anything cold enough and it will never lose its edge. So I practiced, peeling through to…
My sister is doing her exercises, working out in my husband's study. The rowing machine sighs deeply with every stroke, heavy breathing, like a couple making love. Even my humming can't shut it out. She's visiting from Iowa where the cold weather is much worse. When she was ten, I'd hear her strumming her guitar…
Two lovers met. It wasn't lovers' lane, But a lesser traveled road. No others came. One lover held the other's hand. The other Man was me. I watched as if I hovered Far above the scene. And as the sky Began to prickle with the stars, I tried To understand why the other couldn't free…
What I like is when men take a thing— this river, say— and, in the succinctest way, use and transform it: at the fall's head here they have diverted part of the flow: a channel now receives and passes on through its downhill slot all of the directed force that is not there in untaught…
Polymer on canvas Funhouse colors ribboning in long curls a cornucopia's plenty displayed at the state fair we're winning all the color games on the first try, stuffed animals pour out of our ears, glassware trails clinking in the dust, we are indefinitely orbiting ellipses to go on like this forever the centrifugal force that…
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